Plotline, Interrupted
by ShutUpAndPull
Summary: One shot loosely based on a found Tumblr prompt involving Castle being so frustrated during his separation from Beckett that he takes up sparring with Espo and Ryan as a tool to try and help calm him. Beckett accidentally walks in on them working out one night and finds it so hot that she decides she wants some sparring with Castle of her own. This version is set pre-8x07.


**Plotline, Interrupted**

Castle pushed away from the chained heavy bag with an audible exhale of relief, the muscles of his upper arms burning with the sting of two uninterrupted minutes of rapid fire jabs at Espo's instruction. Beads of sweat trickled down the curves of his whiskered face and along his neck and he let them fall without intervention, wearing them as a badge of his dedication to the cause and of his commitment to success, however slim the chance of any success truly was.

"Nice set, bro," Espo lauded with an air of pride more in his own coaching than in Castle's accomplishment. "A few weeks ago the only thing I could get you to do with this bag was complain about it." He released a mocking chuckle and took one grand swipe at the black synthetic leather before stepping towards his wearied pupil and patting him on the shoulder with a gloved hand. "You gonna make it, bro?"

"Make it?" Castle asked from his hunched position, hands at rest against his knees. "I'll take you on right now, _Buzz_ ," he grunted, punctuating the nickname Espo had recently earned due to a haircut gone awry. Hand in hand with Castle's newfound energy came a profound, albeit somewhat misplaced, sureness in his still rather unsophisticated physical prowess. "You want some?" he prodded, bouncing upright with a visible yet inadvertent wince.

"First," Espo hissed, his jaw tight with irritation, "enough with that Buzz shit. You wish you had this goin' on." Castle bit the inside of his cheek to quash a smile. "Second, if I, uh, wanted some, bro, your wife would kill me 'cuz she'd have to bail your broken ass body out of the hospital."

The clank of the precinct gym's metal door echoed suddenly throughout the room and both Castle and Espo turned their attention to the far wall. Neither expected the interruption, their sessions scheduled late in the evening to avoid them as much as possible. Castle had insisted the new partnership remain between the two so Beckett wouldn't get wind of it. She'd already made it clear she didn't want him hanging around the Twelfth, especially since the separation she'd instigated weeks ago.

"I'm sorry, what was that about his wife, Espo?" Beckett wandered towards them wearing workout clothes and a curious eyebrow. Her eyes moved from her lead detective to her husband, lingering on the latter for longer than she'd intended yet somehow unable to break free. "What, uh- what's going on, Castle? What're you doing here?" The answer was clear, of course, but the why of it wasn't.

Espo stood there doing his best impression of someone who wished he wasn't standing there and he didn't say a word, leaving it all to the world-famous writer to try to explain away. "Um, well, before I answer that, may I just say how beautiful you look this evening, Captain Beckett." Castle was buying time and poorly at that - cue Espo's eye roll - and though Beckett's expression begged he forego the pleasantries for actual answers, she felt her body twitch in the most delicious way as he took her in. "Having said that, um," Castle continued, without the benefit of her body's secret, "Espo, here, is helping me with a new plotline is all. It isn't all fleshed out just yet," he stammered, "but, um-"

"A new plotline, huh?" Beckett looked at Espo and he just shrugged. "You seem pretty committed, Castle," she said, taking in the ring of moisture at the collar of his tee. The cotton was thin, unaided by the dampness of his skin, and she could clearly make out the lines of his upper body, some of them new to her and excitedly so. His hair was mussed but in a way that could easily be construed as deliberate, one small cluster tapping free at his forehead almost daring her fingers. "I look forward to reading it when it's done, this new plotline of yours."

"Oh, well, you'll be the first. Except for my editor, I guess, probably, maybe," Castle attempted to assure her, though with little elegance, understanding the tone of her voice to be one of patronizing disbelief. "So, I guess you'd probably like the gym to yourself to do...what it is you do, so we're going to leave you to it." He grabbed for Espo's arm, his hands still awkwardly bound in heavy bag gloves, and tried to quickly usher him away before Beckett could ask anything more. "See you later. Well, at some point - not _later_ later, obviously, but-"

"Tomorrow, boss," Espo chimed in as he was being pushed away, positively amused by the disaster that was Castle's clumsiness in the face of his own wife. "Smooth, writer, smooth," he teased in a whisper as they moved for the door.

"Oh, bite me, Buzz," was Castle's cool comeback, and one that provoked an even nastier look than the one he'd received just moments before at his last drop of the moniker. Now just steps from freedom, they heard Beckett call out after them and they both stopped in their tracks, their heads turning back in unison.

"Not you, Espo," she hollered. "You can go now, thank you." She stood watching them, her hands on her leggings-covered hips. "Castle, a moment, please?"

"Ooo, you're in trouble," Espo taunted, punching Castle in the bicep, and not as gently as Castle would've liked. "Plotline," he chuckled as he pulled open the door and left the marrieds alone.

Castle rubbed his arm as best he could with a glove still on his hand as he slowly made his way towards Beckett. The spot where Espo had hit him stung almost as much as the look she was giving him, but nowhere near as much as the realization that he couldn't walk up to his wife in that moment and take her mouth with his own. He certainly hadn't lied when he told her how beautiful she looked. That had been and would always be true. But their time apart had heightened his want of her to an excruciating level. It was nearly every reason he'd enlisted Espo's help in the gym to begin with. It was unbearable that he couldn't have her, both emotionally and physically, and in his desperation for an outlet, he'd chosen mats and bags and weights. It wasn't him. None of it. But he dove in and kept coming for more because it was the only thing he had that brought even a modicum of relief.

"Need me to hold the bag for you?" he asked lightheartedly as he approached, not at all certain exactly what her current temperature was.

"How long have you been doing this, you and Espo?" Beckett asked, her eyes focused on the spot where his tee clung to a patch of skin below his ribs. She made no attempt to look away this time, nor did the thought ever cross her mind.

"A few weeks, I guess. Whenever he can, you know? His new boss is a real hard-ass." Castle smiled, modestly so, and she did the same, her hands dropping from her hips to a more relaxed pose. "I'm sure he's frustrated as hell with me as a student, but I have to admit that I kind of love that part. Most of the time I don't know what I'm doing here."

She took a step towards him and helped close their gap. "I don't know, Castle," she began, reaching for one of his gloved hands, "I think whatever's going on here suits you quite well." She pulled at the strap across his wrist and freed one hand with a strong tug. "You look-good." That wasn't half of what her body was screaming, but it was what her brain forced out.

"Yeah?" He put his other hand in hers at her silent request. "I guess there's a part of me that feels sort of good about it - underneath all the bruises and aches, I mean. Plus, I do have a smokin' hot wife I want to look good for. There is that." She pulled the other glove off and tossed it aside. "Thanks," he said, glad to be able to finally run his hands through his hair.

"Well, I don't think your wife has anything to complain about," Beckett said, playing into the game. "I'd say she's a pretty lucky woman, actually."

Castle looked at her with every bit of sincerity within him. "Trust me when I say I'm the lucky one." He studied her silence for a moment and then bent to retrieve his gloves. "Well, Captain Beckett, the place is all yours. I'm headed home for a shower and an ice pack. Oh, and to work on the, uh, plotline, of course."

He turned to go, but her hand grabbed for his arm and stopped him. He looked down at the goose bumps her contact elicited and then up at her face which he still couldn't quite read. "Everything okay?"

"Rick," she whispered as she pulled herself into him and pressed her lips against his in a long, intense kiss. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder when she was finally able to break herself free of the mouth she missed and longed for so much. "I don't know what...I want you to take me home." Her eyes, wet and wild, met his. "Now."

Castle took her hand without a word.

 **xxxx**

The elevator doors pushed closed in the lobby and she was on him, having no idea how she managed to make it all the way from the precinct to their building without touching his body as she so desperately wanted. Castle's back hit the car's waist-high railing and he enveloped her in his arms, his hands fisted in her hair, hers beneath his tee at the skin of his waist. Beckett moaned softly against his lips and their kiss grew deeper still, frenzied and ferocious, until the jolt of their arrival broke them apart.

Beckett stepped out of the elevator first and led him down the hallway, unapologetic in her insistence and absolute in her mission. Once at their door, Castle pulled her back against him, hard and fast, and feeling the evidence of the arousal she'd already incited made her entire body hum. "Open the damn door," she commanded breathlessly at his ear before flicking her tongue against his lobe.

"I'm trying to-" he mumbled in frustration, awaiting the painfully protracted sync of key and lock. "Oh, thank God," he sighed as metal finally turned metal and they pushed through the door, one of them managing to kick it closed behind them. "No one's here," Castle told her most gratefully, though in her blind want she foolishly hadn't even thought to ask the question. "We're home, Captain. Do with me what you will," he said with a playful wag of his brow, and she backed him into the bedroom with a smile.

Barely inside their bedroom door, Castle tugged his tee over his head and dropped it unceremoniously to the floor. Beckett's mouth came again for his and his was ready to play, welcoming her tongue with equal fervor. "Hey, I should shower first," he managed to exhale as her lips found his neck. "I'm all salty from the gym." His hand cupped her ass and held her tight. "It'll only take-"

"You're not going anywhere," Beckett interrupted resolutely, the tip of her tongue dipping into the two-days-old scruff beneath the curve of his jaw. "I like the way you taste." Castle released a husky sound of delectation. "I miss the way you taste." She stepped him back towards the end of the bed and contact with the mattress forced him down into a seated position. Beckett stood before him, her eyes locked on his and filled with such hunger and longing and desperation for this to be every night – the rule, not the exception. "I miss _you_." She moved into the space between his legs and wrapped her arms around him, his ear pressed against the beat of her racing heart.

"I miss you too," he said as his arms encircled her waist in the long moment of silence that followed.

"God, do you have any idea how hard it was for me to restrain myself at the gym tonight?" Beckett asked in a wicked change of tone. She grabbed at the muss of his hair. "You look incredible. Your body-"

"Even more incredible than I looked before, right?" his boyish ego said more than asked. Beckett laughed with a playful tug of her fist and leaned in to kiss him. "Just so you know," he added pulling back, "in case I've ever left you with any doubt, I feel that way every time I see you. And it will always be that way, no matter what happens. Always."

Her kiss was long and slow and overflowing with all the things she wanted to say but couldn't – not yet. "So, you, ah, want to finish that workout you started earlier?" she propositioned in a moment's break for breath. "I'm a very, very good coach," she purred, drawing her fingers along the front of his shorts.

"As long as you don't tell Espo," Castle wisecracked. "He might get jealous."

"Promise," Beckett said with a smile and then pushed him backwards onto the bed.


End file.
